He snorted. “I don’t have a backup album. I don’t take vacations.”
I blinked at him. “Ever?”
“I drove out to L.A. for a week a few years ago, but I was there for a work conference.”
“So that’s all you do? Work?”
“Pretty much.”
I stared at him a moment. “Why?”
He shrugged, leaning against the counter. “It’s not easy for me to take time off. The firm needs me. I’m a partner. And I don’t mind the work. The money’s good.”
“Do you need it?” I asked.
“What?”
“The money. Do you need it. Like, is there some goal you’re working toward? Pay off your student loans, get out of debt? Saving up for something big?”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t have any loans. Mom paid for my college. And the income from this building is decent. I just work to work, I guess.”
There was something a little tight about the way he said it.
“What?” I asked.
He looked away from me. “I don’t know…”
“What? Tell me.”
His eyes came back to mine. “I like what I do. It’s fulfilling. And rewarding. It’s just not…” He shook his head and pressed his lips into a line. “I just can’t shake the feeling that something is missing. Maybe because I just broke up with someone.” He rubbed his forehead. “It’s probably that.”
I tipped my wineglass at him. “You suffer from One Day Syndrome.”
He wrinkled his brows. “What?”
“One Day Syndrome. You live your life like there’ll always be one day to do all the things you put off. One day you’ll take the trip. One day you’ll have the family. One day you’ll try the thing. You’re all work and not enough play. Money can’t make you happy unless you know what you want, Adrian. So what do you want?”
He shook his head at me like he’d never considered the question before. “I don’t know.”
“You should try to figure it out. You know, you’re really lucky. Most people don’t have the means to live differently, or to make drastic changes in their lifestyle, pack up and take six months off work and still be able to pay their bills. But you do.” I shrugged. “So do it.”
He looked amused. “Just do it? Just pack up and go.”
“Or stay. But make time for other things that aren’t work. Find balance. Find joy. You are the kind of man who can’t see the shapes in the clouds. And it’s not because you lack imagination. It’s because you’re too busy to look up.”
He blinked at me a moment. Something I couldn’t read moved across his face. Then he cleared his throat and pushed off the counter. “Well, Italy might be a stretch,” he said, reaching for the potatoes. “I don’t fly, remember?”
Grace started to fuss and I unclipped her from the swing and picked her up. “You’re really serious about that no-flying thing, huh?” I said, bouncing her.
He slid the contents of his frying pan into a waiting dish. “I get panic attacks.”
I frowned. “Well that sucks. Have you tried Xanax?”
He put the pan in the sink and ran water over it with a sizzle. “I’ve tried everything.”
“Therapy?”
He shook his head. “I get enough psychoanalysis from my mom. She thinks it’s because I’m not in control of the situation. I’d probably be fine if I was the one flying the plane.” He took the towel from his shoulder and dried his hands. “She says I have abandonment issues.” He looked amused. “My dad left us when I was young. She says this grew into a deep-seated need to always be in control.”
“Huh. Is your mom a psychologist?”
He chuckled. “No. Though she’s probably been to enough of them to know.”
“So how do your abandonment issues mess with your relationships?” I asked, putting Grace’s pacifier in her mouth.
He opened the oven and peeked in. “What do you mean?”
“Your childhood damage always messes with your relationships. I think it’s a rule.”
I knew this rule because I was completely bound by it. And in my case, it meant I didn’t have relationships.
I was taught early on that love was always needy. It was a responsibility. An obligation. Love bleeds you dry and takes advantage of you. Asks you for money, crashes your car, drops a baby on your doorstep.
It leaves you.
It dies.
I didn’t want to do that to anyone else. I didn’t want anyone to fall in love with me only for them to watch me waste away and then leave them behind. And anyway, I wasn’t worth all that. Not at this point. The payout was too small. I probably had too little time left.
He lowered the temperature on the oven. “Other than making it hard to get to Seattle to see her, I don’t think my issues had any bearing on Rachel.”
“So did you have any serious relationships before her?” I asked.
Adrian folded his kitchen towel into a perfect square and set it on the counter. “A few. I dated someone in college for a couple of years. Dated people on and off. My job makes it hard to make time. She was the first girlfriend I had in…three years?”
I pulled my face back. “Wow. She must have been pretty special.”
He blew a breath out, but he didn’t answer.
I felt my face go soft. “Are you okay? Finding out someone’s married is a really shitty way to break up.”
He nodded. “I’m okay. Or I will be. Eventually. Having someone to hang out with helps.”
I smiled and kissed the top of Grace’s head. “We should toast.” I picked up my wineglass and raised it. “To just friends.”
He gave me a crooked smile. “To just friends.”
We clinked our glasses.
CHAPTER 9
MAN TRAPPED IN GRUESOME AVALANCHE! YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT BURIED HIM!
ADRIAN
I woke up thinking about Vanessa.
It was incredible to me that I didn’t know her before this. That I didn’t realize someone so vibrant lived right next door. It seemed like the kind of thing that would have been self-evident. A warmth that I felt through the wall.
Last night she’d brought over a 2013 Far Niente cabernet. It was exquisite. We ate dinner and started watching The Office, but we ended up talking so much we paused it and never got back to it.
I’d done some digging around on her while she was dealing with her dad and his “stolen vehicle.” I searched “Vanessa Price” and clicked on the video with the most views. It was with some other YouTuber named Willow Shea and the video was the two of them eating ghost peppers. It was hilarious.
Then I’d checked her Wikipedia. It was brief. She was a staunch advocate for disability rights and had a charity committed to raising funds for the cure of ALS—and she was famous, a fact I’d gleaned from the amount of fan mail she had and the five million views on the ghost pepper video I’d watched.
I was hoping I’d see what her old job used to be, but the Wikipedia page was sparse.
She’d said she didn’t date because the women in her family die young.